


If you're offering I'm saying yes

by EtoileGarden



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: AU, Banter, Communication, Friends With Benefits, Getting Together, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, M/M, Miscommunication, Sexual Content, aligns with canon until it doesn't, friends to lovers to boyfriends?, set someWHERE around about between BLLB and TRK
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2018-08-17
Packaged: 2019-06-28 14:36:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15709215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EtoileGarden/pseuds/EtoileGarden
Summary: “Fuck,” Ronan says, pulling himself up on his elbows and shuffling around on the mattress, legs shoving at Adam as he tries to propel himself into a better position on the bed. Adam crouches just off the mattress, attempting to breathe, attempting not to think too much. “You’re like a fucking - shit - fucking wild animal. No wonder Sargant broke it off with you, you’d probably crush her, she’s too small -”





	If you're offering I'm saying yes

“Can’t believe you and Sargant seriously broke up because she didn’t want to kiss you,” Ronan says to Adam’s low ceiling at St Agnes. 

 

Ronan is supposedly here to study. He had arrived about half an hour earlier, and while Adam had been studiously working through his calculus homework, Ronan had produced a ball made of probably not real rubber bands, and had been chucking it at the ceiling and (mostly) catching it again. It was only distracting when Ronan fumbled the catch and got hit in the face (hilarious), or, apparently, when Ronan said something so ridiculously stupid. 

 

“The hell,” Adam says lowly to his homework. He continues staring at the paper as if by doing that he can pretend he’s not as pissed off as he is. “That wasn’t why. Who even told you that?” 

 

“Noah,” Ronan says. He’s still speaking to the ceiling. The both of them apparently not even talking to each other. “You guys broke up ‘cos you wanted to kiss her and she didn’t want to kiss you.” 

 

“Noah,” Adam grumbles, “does not have all the facts.” 

 

“Go on then,” Ronan says “give me all the facts.” 

 

“No,” Adam snorts, “why the hell would I do that?” 

 

“Dunno,” Ronan says, matches his tone to Adam’s level of shitty, “‘cos we’re friends? I just want to understand what’s so great about the idea of kissing that it’s worth breaking up over.” 

 

“God, Lynch,” Adam says, finally tearing his gaze away from his paper and swiveling in his chair to look at Ronan who is still looking at the ceiling. “It wasn’t about the kissing. Ok? I mean. God. Listen. She didn’t like me enough that she thought that she could one day love me and that meant - that meant that - it wasn’t  _ right _ , ok? I don’t like it. But. It made sense to break up because we didn’t work out. Is that enough for you?” 

 

“I mean,” Ronan shrugs, “sure. So you’re not all extra shitty right now because you’ve got no one to cuddle?” 

 

“I’m extra shitty right now because you’re asking dumb ass questions,” Adam snaps at him. He turns away again, digs his pencil lead into his paper. There’s a long moment of silence and then Adam says; “it’s not… it’s not like I was getting a lot of  _ cuddling _ or whatever before hand. You know. We didn’t - sometimes I think we weren’t actually even really dating. We were only dating sometimes.” 

 

“Uh huh,” Ronan says. 

 

Adam continues, because, he hasn’t gotten to actually talk about this to anyone but the voices in his head and the voices in his head mostly spoke unintelligible treespeak and gave advice that didn’t make sense and mostly made him just want to go to sleep. Ronan might be a shit head most of the time, but he’s right that they’re  _ friends _ and Adam knows that even if he’ll judge the fuck out of Adam he’ll listen, at the very least. Adam kind of just wants to be listened to. 

 

“It wasn’t about the kissing,” he says, “but I guess in a way it was because I just… God. It was a hell of a lot more important to me than to her, I think, because she can get… affection, I guess, from like… her whole family. She was the only person I could go to for… anything. For anything like that. Maybe it was too much to put on her, anyway.” He very carefully avoids glancing back at Ronan. He doesn’t want to see Ronan’s scathing expression. 

 

“Well shit, dude,” Ronan says, not quite as scathing as Adam was expecting, “you could’a just said you needed a hug. I’m sure I could’ve helped out.” 

 

“Piss off,” Adam says, “I’m not just talking about hugging, anyway.” 

 

“Well  _ shit, dude _ ,” Ronan repeats, a snigger in his voice, “pretty sure Sargant doesn’t get what  _ you’re _ talking about from her family.” 

 

“Piss  _ off _ ,” Adam snorts, “don’t… miscon - misconstrue shit on purpose.” 

 

“Fancy,” Ronan says. He chucks his rubber band ball at the back of Adam’s chair. It bounces off with a soft twanging noise, and he hears it land with a thud in Ronan’s hand. “If she wasn’t kissing you or anything though, it’s not like now you’ve broken up you’re suddenly missing out on it.” 

 

“It was the potential of it that was keeping... it... at bay,” Adam says, as calmly as possible. 

 

“Aw,” Ronan says, not kindly, “and now you’re just drowning in hornyness?” 

 

“I need to ask you to never say that kind of shit to me ever again,” Adam says, but he laughs a little despite himself. 

 

Ronan throws the ball again. Twang against the back of Adam’s chair, thud into Ronan’s hand, twang, thud, twang, thud. Then he speaks again. 

 

“I could help out with that shit too. Not just the hugging thing.” 

 

Twang, thud. Twang. The ball flies bounces off the chair and away from Ronan’s hand as Adam’s shifts his chair slightly. It bounces away across the small room. The both of them watch it settle in the cardboard box Adam uses as a laundry basket. Ronan turns his head to look at Adam. He’s wearing his hard stare, the one used for unsettling, the one that could outstare a lion. Adam is not about to be outstared. He stares back, eyes narrowed. 

 

“What exactly are you offering, here, Lynch?” he asks. 

 

Ronan wrinkles his nose up in a picture of distaste, hunches his shoulders, doesn’t drop his stare. “Nothing if you’re gonna get all… homophobic about it.” 

 

“I’ve not said anything,” Adam snaps, “I’m just asking for clarification.” 

 

“If you’re so fucking… touch starved or whatever? I’ll touch you. You’re not shitty to look at. It’s for the greater good, the greater good being you not being a grumpy shit all the time.” 

 

“So you’re not asking to date,” Adam says, slow, “you’re saying we should… what? Be fuck  buddies.” 

 

“I didn’t say shit about fucking,” Ronan growls, “I said touching. I’m not that easy, Parrish. I’m offering you … a - uh - an alternative to your own hand and shitty imagination.” 

 

“I didn’t mean  _ fucking _ either,” Adam says hotly, “just the concept of it. Fuck buddies. No strings attached… mucking about. That’s what you’re offering?” 

 

“Strings attached,” Ronan replied tautly, “the strings are that I reserve the fucking right to pull out at anytime and to say no to anything no questions asked.”

 

“Those aren’t strings,” Adam says, “that’s just decency. Obviously. I’m not gonna… I’m not gonna try shit if you say no.” 

 

“Oh,” Ronan says, “so that’s a yes, then?” 

 

“Fuck,” Adam says, aware he’s a little hoarse, “this is probably the shittiest idea you’ve ever had and you’ve had some really shitty ideas.” 

 

“That a yes, then?” Ronan presses. He’s shifted a little on the bed so he’s sitting on the very edge of it, knees up high and tense like he’s ready to spring. Away from or at Adam, he isn’t sure. 

 

“Yeah,” Adam says, despite himself, “no strings. Common decency. No fucking. No telling the others.” 

 

Ronan lifts one shoulder, and then drops it, “Fine with me,” he says, “I have no desire to go up to Dick and be all, ‘oh hey man, Parrish and I have entered a mutually beneficial agreement in which we make out and grind because we’re both horny, what d’you think?’” 

 

Adam cringes a little, “God,” he says, “yeah. This will be mutually beneficial, then?” 

 

“Fuck, Parrish,” Ronan says, “I’m not a saint. I wouldn’t fucking suggest this shit if I didn’t think I’d like it.” 

 

“You saying I’m hot?” Adam asks.

 

“Whatever you need to hear, I’m saying it,” Ronan grits back, “yeah. I think you’re hot. Who the fuck wouldn’t? And I know I’m sexy as all shit so you don’t need to say it back, you just need to stop being a fucking nerd for once and come over here so I can  _ ease your needs _ .” 

 

“That’s another thing I’m gonna need you to never ever say again,” Adam says, but he stands up, legs shifting him almost automatically, and crosses the small space between the two of them to stand just in front of Ronan’s knees, nudging at one of them with his calf. “This is a hook up, yeah? No romance.” 

 

“Yeah,” Ronan snaps up at him. He’s snagged his hand around the back of Adam’s thigh, not tugging yet, just holding, giving plenty of leeway in his grip for Adam to step away if he wants. “Stop being so… weird.” 

 

“Me?” Adam snorts, “You’re the one who suggested we… do whatever this is. Out of the blue.” 

 

They both cringe at the poor phrasing. Ronan mouths, ‘Out of the Blue,’ up at him, and Adam shuts his eyes. 

 

“Piss off,” he says, kicks lightly at Ronan’s legs, and then turns to drop himself down onto the mattress beside Ronan. 

 

He doesn’t want to do the whole awkward staring at each other like, who goes first? Kind of thing, so he just pulls his legs up onto the mattress and leans in against Ronan to kiss him hard. He wants to make this as clear as his words had been, so he doesn’t start out tender at all. Just smashes his mouth against Ronan’s, bites down against Ronan’s lower lip, clutches the back of Ronan’s head. Ronan responds first with a huff of heady surprise, but then he’s pushing back hard against Adam, pulling the both of them down onto the mattress so that Ronan’s lying flat on his back and Adam is sprawled ungainly on top of him. It’s a fuck load of a lot all at once and there is certainly no misconstruing of what’s going on. It’s a hookup. It’s a convenience. It’s a mutually beneficial sexual  _ thing.  _ It’s hard and probably a little dirty and definitely not soft, definitely not cautious, definitely already miles and miles further than he had gone with Blue. 

 

Ronan is tugging at him, yanking at his clothing hard enough that Adam, or some small part of Adam’s more sensible brain, is worried it’ll rip, is biting back at Adam’s mouth. It’s less like kissing and more like a more physical version of how they argue, or, a metaphor for the way Ronan drives his car, or, something. Who the fuck knows. There’s a tongue in his mouth, there’s hands rubbing up his sides, short blunt nails scratching at his ribs, there’s hard abs beneath his fingers, bristly jaw beneath one of his palms. If Adam concentrates he can see the distance he had come in such a short time - sedately doing his homework to engaged in what probably looks like a wrestling match - but it’s difficult to see anything but the feeling of so much heat against his body, so he stops trying to think about anything else. All he knows is he’s gone from zero to breaking the speed limit and he feels like if he stops he’ll crash. 

 

“Fuck,” Ronan bites out eventually, when Adam’s accidentally knocked the both of their heads against the wall a few times too many, “fuck, chill out a moment, dude, fuck - let’s just - God - reconfigure.” 

 

Adam has exactly zero desires to reconfigure. Reconfiguring means releasing his grip on Ronan’s hips, removing his mouth from Ronan’s neck, stopping grinding up against Ronan’s thigh. 

 

“Parrish,” Ronan grunts out, or groans out, hard to tell, “God, fuck, this is great but, God,  _ stop _ -” 

 

Adam freezes, pulls away, and Ronan laughs at him. A harsh laugh, but an amused one. 

 

“Fuck,” Ronan says, pulling himself up on his elbows and shuffling around on the mattress, legs shoving at Adam as he tries to propel himself into a better position on the bed. Adam crouches just off the mattress, attempting to breathe, attempting not to think too much. “You’re like a fucking - shit - fucking wild animal. No wonder Sargant broke it off with you, you’d probably crush her, she’s too small -” 

 

“Oh fuck you,” Adam spits, the humiliation he feels he should probably have felt the moment he basically attacked Ronan’s face, seeping in heavily to his lungs and his limbs, “fuck you, you’re the one fucking clawing my sides.” 

 

Ronan is rolling his eyes. Adam is immediately as furious as he was ferocious a moment before, the heat fueling him in a very different way. He stomps himself upright, having to grab at the low ceiling to steady himself because all his blood is in the wrong place, “Fuck you,” he repeats, ducks his head low so he won’t brain himself, and crashes to the bathroom where he locks the door behind himself. 

 

There’s a short silence, and then Ronan tries the doorknob. It’s locked, so Ronan swears loudly and tries the doorknob a little harder. If he had tried it a lot harder it would have worked, but he hadn’t, so it still keeps him firmly on the other side of it while Adam sits on the closed toilet seat and glares at the wiggling doorknob. 

 

“Parrish,” Ronan snaps through the thin door, “come the fuck on. You’re the one who said no fucking romance.” 

 

“New fucking string,” Adam snaps back, “don’t fucking bring Blue up. Why the hell would you - God. What a shitty thing to say,” 

 

“I’m a shitty person,” Ronan says in a growl. 

 

“So the string is to be less of a shitty person,” Adam says, “ _ fuck _ .” 

 

He’s too turned on still. It’s fucking distracting, and he can’t figure out if the fucking pain in his chest is anger, or frustration, or bitterness, or  _ pain _ , or just being too fucking hard to think straight.

 

“I don’t mind the wild animal bit,” Ronan says eventually. His voice is less growly now. Still sharp. “I like it. It’s fun. You can be fucking rough. When I said stop it was just so my head wouldn’t go through the fucking wall because can you imagine trying to explain  _ that _ to the church?” 

 

Adam picks at a piece of crumbling plaster on the wall by the toilet. 

 

“I won’t fucking bring her up while we’re doing shit,” Ronan says, a few long plaster filled moments later, “it just slipped out. Come on. Dude. Man.” 

 

Adam exhales loudly, forces himself to stop picking at the plaster because he also doesn’t want to have to explain that to the church. He stands up, unlocks the door, leans against the doorway. 

 

“Ok,” he says. 

 

“We gonna keep on, then?” Ronan asks. He’d stepped back when Adam had opened the door, and was now standing just a foot away from Adam, arms crossed over his chest. “Or do you wanna be grumpy in peace?” 

 

“I want to take our shirts off,” Adam replies, “and start again. With you on top.” 

 

“I said I don’t mind rough,” Ronan says. 

 

“Come  _ on _ ,” Adam says. 

 

Ronan shrugs, yanks his top off. 

 

-

 

Ronan doesn’t stay the night that night. Didn’t even stay until orgasm. They don’t mention it the next day at school, they don’t even mention it the next night when Ronan turns up at Adam’s after Adam’s shift at Boyd’s, and presses him down into the mattress again and kisses Adam until Adam thinks he’s going to faint from lack of oxygen. Then he leaves again while Adam showers because he’s still all greasy and sweaty from Boyd’s, and fuck, Ronan, now he has to wash his sheets too, because they’re greasy and sweaty now. 

They still don’t mention it the next day. Nothing seems to change. They’re still… normal at school together, on Cabeswater trips with the group, at Monmouth, doing whatever else. The only time it’s relevant is when they’re pressed up against each other, fingers hooking on skin and clothing. 

 

-

 

It falls into a routine. Ronan tends to come over after Boyd’s. Sometimes he’ll pick Adam up from work, sometimes he’ll bring dinner with him. The routine goes like this; Ronan and Adam do ‘friend things’ for up to an hour (eating dinner, attempting homework, bickering, talking shit), then they do ‘friend’ things until they pass out or until Ronan gets ants in his pants and goes home for the night instead. Ronan stays the night fifty percent of the time, citing the reason for doing so as ‘so we can go for round four in the morning’. 

 

The biggest problem so far isn’t even really a problem. Or, it is, but it’s just… it’s just in Adam’s head so it’s not really a problem yet. The problem is when, sometimes, sitting in class, he’ll think about just reaching sideways under the desk and taking Ronan’s hand, because it’s a nice hand to hold, and human touch is just  _ nice _ . Or sometimes at Monmouth he wants to just sit on top of Ronan on the couch instead of shoving him over, because, well, because human touch is  _ just nice _ . Or sometimes when Ronan comes into St Agnes Adam wants to greet him with a kiss and then go back to his homework and not have it lead to anything more because he’s tired but he still wants a kiss, because  _ human touch is just nice _ . He doesn’t do any of these things, because they don’t fit in the routine, and because they’d blur boundaries, but that doesn’t stop him from lying in bed alone sometimes thinking about reading a book while pressed up against Ronan’s side. 

 

So. It’s a routine, and Adam likes routines, and he doesn’t like his routines to go awry, so, he doesn’t like it when, about two months into their routine, Ronan changes it. 

 

-

 

For one thing, Adam doesn’t even have Boyd’s today. For another, it’s his day off, and he’s just home doing homework with vague plans to communicate with Cabeswater later on. For  _ another _ , it’s midday, and it’s one thing to overstep several hundred boundaries when it’s dark, and another thing entirely to blunder through them in broad daylight. Of course, Ronan comes over other times, but it’s very obvious now when he comes over for other things, and when he comes over for  _ other things _ . Today is an  _ other things _ kind of look. 

 

“It’s barely one in the afternoon,” Adam grunts, not looking up from his latin. Ronan has his teeth against the shell of his ear. 

 

“You’ve got the declension wrong,” Ronan says, releasing Adam’s ear for long enough to say this, and to shift to Adam’s neck instead. He bites a hard kiss into Adam’s skin, a little bit too high up. 

 

Adam swats him off with the back of his hand, changes the declension. 

 

“Take a break,” Ronan says, he’s not put off by Adam’s hand waving, his own hands have found their way up the sides of Adam’s shirt, and are pressing in hard at his stomach, at his chest, “ten minutes.” 

 

“Lynch,” Adam says, “now’s not the time.” 

 

“I’m horny now,” Ronan says, “kinda feels like the time.” 

 

“Stop,” Adam snaps, and Ronan withdraws his hands and body heat immediately. He takes a quick step back, and Adam sighs. Begins on the next Latin problem. “I don’t wanna… I’m not in the mood for fucking about right now,” he says, “it’s lunch time. Not… not Lynch time. Just stick to our normal timing, yeah? Makes things easier.” 

 

“Whatever,” Ronan says, “you gonna have lunch, then?” 

 

“You gonna make me lunch?” 

 

“Fuck off. I’ll buy you lunch. Tacos?” 

 

“Whatever.” 

 

-

 

The day after is fine. It fits in routine. The next day however, fucks shit up again, because, because. Because Adam’s having a shitty day, and he’s in a shitty mood, and he hurt his shoulder lifting some shit for Cabeswater, and he just wants to lie on his bed and feel sorry for himself until he falls asleep. Ronan turns up, because Ronan likes turning up at weird times, and at first it’s fine, because Ronan’s obviously not here for  _ that _ he’s just here because he’s Ronan and he wants to throw shit around, or say dumb stuff that Gansey would tell him off for, or whatever, but then he climbs onto the bed beside Adam and touches his nape gently. 

 

“Not in the mood, Lynch,” Adam says, sounds a fuck load grouchier than he had intended to. Ronan laughs at him. 

 

“Yeah I fucking know, you shit head,” Ronan says, “like I’m trying to make out with you while you’re all pissy. You’d bite my face off.” 

 

“You’re not helping with the pissyness,” Adam points out tautly. 

 

“Uh-huh,” Ronan says, and then he’s lying himself down alongside Adam, stretching his body out against his so they’re pressed stomach to back, “how about this, then?” 

 

“Lynch,” Adam says, because, this isn’t their kind of touching. It wasn’t sexual and neither was it a knock of knuckles on skin. Or grazed elbows and knees. Ronan’s arm was wrapped around Adam’s waist, lightly, his face pressed in against his nape where his hand had been moments before. 

 

“It’s a hug,” Ronan says, “I offered you hugs, didn’t I?” 

 

Adam could argue this, he could, he very much could. He doesn’t want to. He shuffles around until they’re stomach to stomach, shifts until Ronan has both arms wrapped around him. It is technically a hug. It’s technically a hug even when Ronan kisses him softly and slowly and much, much sweeter than they usually kiss. 

 

-

 

Ronan keeps fucking changing up the routine. He drives Adam home from school a few days later, kisses him against the bathroom door after Adam comes out of the shower. He picks him up from Boyd’s the next night, and then doesn’t even instigate shit, just fiddles with Adam’s hand. They watch a movie instead and Ronan stays the night. He gives him a hand job the next morning, but it’s a little strange after a night of doing… not that. He wrangles Adam into his room at Monmouth and onto his bed and into his mouth while they’re waiting for Gansey to get off the phone with Malory, and honestly, that’s so far out of the routine it’s like there isn’t one. 

 

It’s less that Adam needs routines in general to function, and more that without the routine for this particular thing it feels too much like it might be something else. With their hookups and shit being vaguely scheduled into times and slots, it felt very clear to Adam. This is when Ronan and I are just being friends, and this is when Ronan and I are just being friends who know each others mouths and dicks intimately. They were seperate things. When the two things overlapped, it was something else entirely, and there was no room for it to be another thing just like that. 

 

Possibly because of this change in routine, other shit changes as well. The group dynamic. Just a little. It had been falling into RonanandAdam and GanseyandBlue for a while, even before Adam and Blue had ‘broken up’, but it felt a little bit more like that now. It felt. It felt like even when it was the four, and the five of them altogether, it was still RonanandAdam and GanseyandBlue. Despite this, Ronan seemed to… speak less when it was all of them together. His comments seemed toothier, maybe, or grittier. It’s a little shit. Ronan being weirdly awkward, and Blue still a little distant even though they were both trying to be friends and not ‘exes’, and even his relationship with Gansey felt strange, like if he talked to Gansey for too long Gansey would know that Adam spent a lot of time with his hand down Gansey’s best friends pants. Noah was gone more and more. 

 

It was a lot. He needed routine. 

 

-

 

“Hey,” Adam says, after he and Ronan have put their pants back on and Ronan is rummaging around for his shirt. Tonight was a routine night. It was a good night. Ronan grunted to show he was listening, kept rustling around for his shirt. “Can we add another string?” 

 

Ronan very studiously does not look up from his shirt hunting. He grunts again. 

 

“We only do  _ this _ on nights after Boyd’s. Keep it contained, y’know?” 

 

“Contained?” Ronan asks the floor. He’s located his shirt now. He’s just staring at it. 

 

“Yeah,” Adam says. Scratches at his side where he’s pretty sure Ronan’s sucked a useless hickey in under his ribs. “So it doesn’t leak out into normal life. Like. The way I see it, is that to keep this a properly… fuck buddy thing, we’ve got to make sure our friendship is a seperate part of our fucking about. Otherwise it’s just a relationship, yeah?” 

 

Ronan grunts again. He snatches his shirt up and tugs it on over his head. 

 

“So,” Adam continues, because Ronan doesn’t look like he plans to add anything anytime soon, “only on Boyd’s night. Ok?” 

 

“Whatever,” Ronan says. 

 

“Why are you so pissed off?” Adam asks. Ronan scowls ferociously at him. 

 

“I’m not,” he snaps, “I’m going home. Gotta keep up our boundaries. Wouldn’t wanna accidentally chat with you about something other than your cock.” 

 

“Fuck, Lynch,” Adam says, exasperated, but Ronan just makes a face at him, shoves his feet into his boots, and stomps away. 

 

Fuck Lynch. 

 

-

 

Ronan doesn’t fucking talk to him at school. Or at Monmouth. Adam assumes they’re fighting, so he doesn’t bother attempting to talk to Ronan either. Ronan will talk to him when he wants to. So. It’s a surprise when Ronan turns up at St Agnes the next night after Boyd’s, and when Adam lets him in, he doesn’t try to talk at all, just pushes Adam further into the room and crashes their faces together. Adam thinks that maybe this is an apology, or, not an apology, an end to their fight, or something. So he kisses him back, and they stumble around the room until they get to the bed, and Ronan hits his head on the ceiling, and they struggle out of their clothes ,and Adam cums in a humiliating six and a half minutes. And then Ronan puts his clothes back on, and leaves. Just fucking leaves. 

 

-

 

Ronan does not talk to him at school. Or at Monmouth. Adam doesn’t want to talk to him either, seeing as he’d just fucked off the other night even though his own dick was still hard, hadn’t even said goodbye.  

 

-

 

The next night Ronan is outside Boyd’s, waiting, and Adam climbs into the passenger seat, expecting that this will be when Ronan will finally just shitting say what’s bugging him and they can fucking get over whatever this shit is, but Ronan drives them straight to St Agnes, and they don’t do their usual slot of being friends, they just go straight to the part where Ronan pushes Adam against the inside of his front door and sucks him off. And then he leaves again. Just leaves. He hadn’t even taken his shirt off. He hadn’t even said hello, let alone goodbye. Just leaves. 

 

-

 

Ronan does not talk to him at school, so Adam follows him home to Monmouth, closely enough that he gets a foot in the door of Ronan’s bedroom before Ronan can slam the door shut. 

 

“Can we talk?” Adam asks. 

 

Gansey is watching with worried interest from behind them. He had noticed, of course, that  _ something _ was wrong, but either he didn’t want to get involved in this spat, or he wanted too much to get involved in the spat, so he hadn’t said anything to Adam about it. Not verbally at least. 

 

Ronan snorts. He’s trying to shut his door on Adam’s foot, but Adam’s already in his work boots, steel tipped, and doesn’t budge. “We don’t  _ talk _ , Parrish,” he says. 

 

This is around about what Adam had expected him to say. Around about what Adam suspected was the issue. 

 

“So then we should,” Adam replies stiffly. He is not a fan of the feeling of Gansey’s warily watchful eyes on the back of his neck. 

 

Perhaps Ronan can also tell that Gansey is about to say something, because he nods stiffly, and opens his door so that more than Adam’s foot can enter. 

 

“You’re avoiding me,” Adam says, closing the door behind him, can’t be bothered with preamble, can be bothered with keeping his voice low so Gansey can’t overhear. “Because you’re pissed off that I want there to be a clear cut line between us being friends and us being fuckbuddies. You  _ know  _ I didn’t mean that I only want us to be fuck buddies. If we’re going to cut one of the two out of the equation it’s going to be the fuck buddy part. We’re only doing this because we’re friends, if we’re not friends, I don’t want to do it.” 

 

Ronan stares at him, nose crinkled, and then stomps over to his window and leans against the panes of glass, staring down at the ground outside. Not useful. 

 

“Ronan,” Adam snaps, “can you please just fucking - use your words.” 

 

“I don’t want to be your  _ fuck buddy _ anymore,” Ronan says stiffly. 

 

Adam had not actually been expecting that, but, it wasn’t so far out of the realm of possibilities, so. “Ok,” he says, “that’s fine. Do you wanna, uh, say why?” 

 

“My first fucking string was I could stop this at any point with no questions asked,” Ronan says, he sounds like he’s reciting from a manual, “so no. I don’t wanna fucking say  _ why _ .” 

 

“Ok,” Adam says again, “whatever. We’ll stop then. That’s fine.” 

 

“Are we done here?” Ronan snaps. He’s still just fucking looking through the window. 

 

“Sure,” Adam says, “we can try this civility thing out again tomorrow.” 

 

He slams Ronan’s bedroom door shut behind him, meets Gansey’s eyes for two seconds too long. 

 

“Is everything ok, Adam?” Gansey asks. 

 

“Ask Ronan,” Adam retorts, overly harsh, “I’ve gotta get to work. Later, Gansey.” 

 

-

 

Ronan continues not to talk to him. Group activities are ridiculously awkward. The dynamics rock backwards, GanseyandRonan and AdamandBlue, and sometimes GanseyandRonanandBlue and Adam. Ronan doesn’t pick him up after work. Ronan does not turn up at St Agnes out of the blue, Ronan’s new routine is to just ignore Adam. Adam does not like this new routine. At night Adam occasionally thinks he shouldn’t have said anything, then at least even if he and Ronan weren’t doing exactly ‘friendship’ things, Ronan would still be spending time with him at the very least. In the mornings he knows he doesn’t actually want that. A vacant Ronan is no better than an ignoring Ronan. He doesn’t know what the fuck he’s supposed to do. 

 

-

 

It’s a fortnight after their ‘conversation’, when there’s a knock on his flat door about twelve minutes after he’d gotten home from Boyd’s. He’s freshly showered, in his sweatpants and nothing else, so, he has this stupid hope that if it is Ronan, anything caustic he might have to say will be mellowed by Adam’s bare torso. 

It isn’t Ronan, it’s Gansey. 

 

“Oh,” Adam says, which isn’t what you’re meant to say in greeting to one of your best friends. “Gansey, hey, what’s up?” 

 

Gansey holds his fist out to bump Adam’s. They bump knuckles. Adam steps aside, Gansey comes in. He looks tired and tentative, and Adam is reasonably certain this is probably about him and Ronan, but he’s not at all certain at what angle Gansey is about to attack it at. 

 

“Ronan’s told me everything,” Gansey says, which is so very much not at all the angle Adam had been expecting that he has to sit down. 

 

“Everything about what?” he tries, just in case. 

 

Gansey bites his lower lip, shoves his hands in his jacket pockets, and then pulls his hands out again and starts to undo the buttons instead. 

 

“About you two being… uh, friends with benefits.” 

 

“Right,” Adam says. 

 

“And that it’s over. Along with the friends part.” 

 

“Right,” Adam says. 

 

“He didn’t ask me to come,” Gansey says, which is so obvious that Adam doesn’t bother saying anything to it, and after a beat Gansey continues. “He’s upset.” This is also obvious. Requires a response, though. 

 

“I know,” Adam says. 

 

“I don’t understand,” Ganey says then, plaintive. 

 

“I thought Ronan told you everything,” Adam snaps, and Gansey sighs, rubs his finger against his lip where he’d worried it with his teeth just before. 

 

“I don’t understand why it happened,” he clarifies, “and then, why it ended this way.” 

 

Well, fuck, neither the hell did Adam, so. Fuck. When Adam doesn’t offer a suggestion to this, Gansey sighs again and keeps talking. 

 

“Are you going to kiss me now, as well?” he asks, which is very surprising, “Or Noah?” 

 

“What?” Adam says. 

 

“Well,” Gansey says, “you ended things with Blue, and now Ronan, so, who’s next?” 

 

Now Adam realises that Gansey was angry. Which, he felt, was rather unfair, because he hadn’t fucking ended it with either Blue or Ronan. This didn’t mean he wasn’t to blame for either of them, because he  _ was _ , but it wasn’t all on him, and it had nothing to do with Gansey, and what the fuck, Gansey. 

 

“Don’t be shitty,” Adam snaps, “you think I wanted this?” 

 

“I don’t know!” Gansey retorts, voice raising slightly, “I never know what you  _ want _ , Adam! I only find out what you  _ wanted _ after you got it!” 

 

“I didn’t want that!” Adam says, “Damn it, Gansey. You don’t think I feel shitty about this? You don’t think I’m confused about this at all? I don’t think Ronan could have told you everything after all. You wanna know what I want? I want Ronan to fucking talk to me. I want you and Blue to stop pretending you don’t want to bone. I want to be allowed to want things without having it be a big fucking deal. I want Ronan to talk to me.” 

 

They’re both silent then. Adam stands up abruptly from his chair. Can’t stand sitting still. Ducks his head down between his shoulders so he can stalk to the other side of his small room. 

 

“Blue and I,” Gansey says slowly, quietly, “like each other very much.” 

 

“I know,” Adam snorts, “the world knows, Gansey.” 

 

Gansey takes this in, then he nods. “Are you angry about it?” 

 

“I’m angry you wouldn’t tell me,” Adam says. 

 

“If you want Ronan to talk to you, maybe you should talk to him,” Gansey says. 

 

“I don’t know what to fucking say to him,” Adam says. Exhales heavily, trying to force his anger out with his breath. Repeats, quieter, softer. “I don’t know what to say to him.” 

 

“Sorry?” Gansey suggests. 

 

Adam scoffs. 

 

“I’m sorry,” Gansey offers then, “for not telling you about Blue earlier. For… assuming you didn’t care about Ronan’s feelings.” 

 

Adam scoffs again, then regrets it, and turns a little to face Gansey. “Thanks,” he says, “sorry too. For being a prick.” 

 

“So long as you’re not a dick,” Gansey says. 

 

-

 

Adam skips last period because last period is study and he can just afford to skip without affecting his grades, and because Ronan’s last period is also study so he’ll have gone home if he had even bothered to come in today. He has to hope he’s at Monmouth, and not at the Barns, or cruising around the streets, or whatever. He’s spent all the last two weeks thinking about this while trying not to think about this, and he’d spent all last night and all day at school thinking about how he wants to say what he needs to say, and if he has to stretch this out for too much longer he might just snap. 

 

He doesn’t knock on Ronan’s door, he just pushes it open. Ronan is lying on his back on his bedroom floor, headphones on, Chainsaw perched on his stomach, a deadly glare on his face. He directs it at Adam. 

 

Adam closes the door behind him, strides across the floor, crouches down, removes Ronan’s headphones and says; “Why aren’t we friends?” 

 

Ronan glowers up at him. He doesn’t snatch for the headphones though. Instead, he rolls over, scooping Chainsaw up off of his stomach as he rolls onto his knees and stands up. 

 

“Ronan,” Adam says “why aren’t we friends. You told Gansey we’re not friends.” 

 

Ronan looks at him. His glower is still steady on most of his face, but it’s lacking something in the eyes. 

 

“I don’t care that you told Gansey everything,” Adam says, “well, I do a bit. It’s embarrassing. Or something. But I also don’t care. What I do care about is that you told him we’re not friends, but you never told me that.” 

 

“Thought it didn’t need saying,” Ronan says. 

 

Adam feels angry enough to spit blood. He swallows instead, bites his tongue. 

 

“You’re my friend,” Adam snaps at him, “even if I’m not yours. This isn’t our  _ arrangement _ , so I’m allowed to ask questions. Why. You said you wanted to end the fuck buddy shit, but you never said anything about anything else.” 

 

Ronan scoffs at him. Adam has to swallow hard again, bite his tongue even harder. 

 

“Why.” 

 

“I can’t fucking do it, man,” Ronan drawls. It’s not the drawl he’s obviously attempting to put on. The _ couldn’t care less _ drawl. It’s very, very obviously the _ care too much that it spills out the edges of my nonchalance _ drawl. 

 

“Do what?” Adam snaps. 

 

“I was fine being just your friend,” Ronan snaps, and then, as if that was a plug being released, continues in a rush, “I was  _ fine _ , and I could handle being your fuck buddy, until I couldn’t. Until I realised that to do that it had to be so separate from being friends. What’s the point in being  _ friends _ with benefits if you don’t get to be friends. But I screwed myself, didn’t I? I fucking screwed myself so shitting badly. I could do friends, but I couldn’t do friends with benefits, and I definitely couldn’t do just the benefits part, and as it turns out? I can’t do the fucking friends part after having had the benefits. So. Sorry. Or whatever. I fucked up. You fucked up by playing with fucking badly put out fire. I fucked up by not knowing what the fuck I can deal with. The fucking end. That’s it.” 

 

“I’m not satisfied with that being ‘the end’,” Adam says. 

 

“Too bad,” Ronan snaps. 

 

“No,” Adam says, “nah. Not too bad. Not ‘the end’. You don’t get to just decide that by yourself in a fit of - of - of pissyness.” 

 

“Fuck you,” Ronan says. 

 

“I can’t just merge fuck buddy into romantic partner,” Adam says stiffly, “not without a fucking conversation about it. Not without knowing for sure that that’s what you want. You can’t just - just blur boundaries. If you’d just  _ talked _ to me about it -” 

 

“If I’d just talked to you?” Ronan repeats loudly, “Seriously, man?” 

 

“How the hell was I supposed to know you wanted more strings attached if you don’t tell me?” Adam snaps, “We agreed at the beginning that it wasn’t romance. It wasn’t dating. I wasn’t going to just assume otherwise unless told.” 

 

“Fuck you,” Ronan says again, with a lot less heat. 

 

“So will you please just fucking talk to me, now?” Adam asks, holds Ronan’s gaze until Ronan nods. 

 

“I fucked up,” Ronan says, keeps his eyes locked on Adam’s. “You know I did. I didn’t want shit to be casual. I wanted to get to, like, fuck. Hold hands with you or whatever. Do shit when we weren’t actively  _ doing shit _ . I thought I could get away with it.” 

 

“Ok,” Adam says. Waits. 

 

“I’ve already said everything else,” Ronan snaps, “what else do you want me to say? Oh please, Adam, please fucking date me? Ignore every other shitty dumbass thing I’ve done and date me? You already know I give good head?” 

 

“I mean,” Adam says, “that is kind of what I wanted you to say, yeah?” 

 

“Well fuck you,” Ronan reiterates, “did that feel good to hear?” 

 

“Yeah,” Adam says, because that is the truth. “Look,” he says, before Ronan can spit anything else nasty in his direction, “look. This isn’t  _ that _ anymore. There are no fucking rules. So - that’s what you want then? Dating? Romance? Not just friendship?” 

 

Ronan grumbles some more swearing out under his breath and than says; “I want friendship. But the kind of friendship that’s dating. I’m  _ sorry _ .” 

 

Ronan is an idiot. 

 

“Stop being a dumbass,” Adam sighs, “God. Look. I’m just trying to clarify what exactly it is you want so I can  _ give it to you _ .” 

 

Ronan’s eyes narrow. He chucks Chainsaw to the side. She squawks in an aggrieved sort of way and catches herself midair and flaps grumpily to the floor to hop over to and under the bed. 

 

“Dating isn’t something you can give to me,” he says, “as some sort of consolation gift. Dating is a thing that you do with someone.” 

 

“Ok so that was a poor choice of words,” Adam says, “I thought I was being clear. I want to date you.” 

 

Ronan looks at him for a long moment more, and then he says, “I don’t do casual.” 

 

“What the hell?” Adam snorts, “You don’t - we just spent  _ ages _ doing casual -” 

 

“Yeah,” Ronan snaps, “and when we started I was pretty sure doing casual would fuck me up, and when we finished I knew for certain that it fucking would. I don’t want to  _ play _ anymore, Parrish. I’m done with playing. I’m done with just trying shit out. I know what I want, and it doesn’t involve pussy-fucking-footing around.” 

 

Adam sighs. Scuffs his shoe on the floor. Stares up at the high bedroom ceiling. “Ok,” he says. “Ok. I - I’m not playing when I say I wanna date you. But I - yeah. Tell me what you need me to want, to  _ know _ , before you feel ok dating me, and I’ll see if I can match up to it.” 

 

This is very much going off any script Adam had ever planned out. According to Ronan’s face, it’s off all his scripts as well. He doesn’t ask for clarification though, just takes a long moment to consider. 

 

“You gotta want me for me,” he says roughly, “not just for … for the touching bits. Not like the fuck buddy shit. I don’t wanna date you in that shitty way where you like… go on dates every couple of nights and talk about dumb fuck stuff and flirt with other people on the sides, and expect the relationship to be done in a couple of months. If you’re dating me it’s gotta be - it’s gotta be with the expectation that we’ll fucking… last. I guess. I don’t wanna be a consolation prize, either. If you’re still… pining after Sargant and trying to fill a gap? I’m not gonna be your filler.” 

 

These are all reasonable requests. Adam still wants to think them over though, so he stands there in silence for a few moments. 

 

“Just fucking say no and piss off already,” Ronan snaps at him. 

 

“I’m thinking!” Adam snaps back, “Give me a moment!”

 

“If you need to think about it, that’s probably already your answer,” Ronan says, and Adam sighs. 

 

“You know I need to think about every fucking thing,” he says, “I can’t just - even when I know it’s  _ right  _ I can’t just jump. I need to be sure. Do you want me to just jump and then realise later I was wrong? I’m thinking so I can be fucking sure I won’t hurt you.” 

 

Ronan scowls. 

 

“You’re not a rebound,” Adam says, “you’re not a gap fill. You’re not just… getting off to me.” 

 

Ronan grunts. 

 

“I don’t wanna date you for only a couple of months,” Adam says, “I hate when we’re not talking. I want to know that we’re still going to be talking next year. Five years after that. Ten years after.” 

 

Ronan grunts. 

 

“I’m not -” Adam starts, stops, starts again. “I’m not an amazing person to date. You know I put things in boxes, I get stressed too easily, I’m - I want so much -” 

 

“I don’t fucking care,” Ronan says, “so long as I get more than one fucking box.” 

 

“I want to be your boyfriend,” Adam says, tries out the words, because he thinks they’ll feel a lot more substantial than ‘dating’. 

 

Ronan looks at him. “You’re not saying this just because you want to be friends again and think this is an easy way back in?” 

 

“No,” Adam sighs, “God. No. If I wanted easy, Lynch, I wouldn’t be here. If I wanted easy I wouldn’t want you.” 

 

“Ok,” Ronan says. 

 

“We’ve gotta start again, though,” Adam says, and Ronan raises his eyebrows at him. 

 

“Start again?” he prompts. 

 

“With the touching shit. Like. If today is our first day of being  _ boyfriends _ , I’m not gonna suck your dick, or whatever? We’ve gotta work out way back up to that.” 

 

Ronan’s eyebrows go even higher. If he had hair, they’d be disappearing into it. 

 

“Ok,” he says. 

 

“Ok,” Adam says, “are we done with our fight now? Are we on the same page? Are you… ok?” 

 

Ronan rolls his eyes. He shuffles forwards towards Adam, reaches one hand out to hook Adam by the belt buckle, and tugs him forwards once, jerkily. “Yeah,” he says. 

 

“So we’re doing this, then?” Adam says. 

 

“Unless you’re about to back out, yeah,” Ronan says. 

 

“We really have a knack from going from zero to a hundred,” Adam mumbles, lifting his hand to cover Ronan’s at his waist. 

 

“Don’t think we started from zero,” Ronan points out, “maybe fifty.” 

 

“I’m not going to back out,” Adam says. 

 

“You gonna kiss me, then?” Ronan asks. 

 

Adam kisses him. This doesn’t get to be their first kiss, but he tries to make it a kiss worthy of being their ‘first’ kiss. Ronan laughs into his mouth and Adam pull away. 

 

“I think being boyfriends downgraded your kissing skills,” Ronan says, sniggering, and Adam pokes him hard in the side. 

 

“Shut up,” he snaps, “I’m just nervous.” 

 

“The fuck?” Ronan says, “Why?” 

 

Adam shrugs, “Because it’s important to make a good first impression when you take on a new role.” 

 

“Well,” Ronan says, “you made a shitty impression. Luckily for both of us, one, I don’t give a shit, and two, I already know how you kiss when you’re not nervous. Stop trying so fucking much, Parrish.” 

 

Adam kisses him again. This time Ronan grunts against his mouth and wraps his arms firmly around Adam’s waist to tug him closer, kisses him back as well. 

 

“Better?” Adam asks, pulling back, one eyebrow up.

 

“Uh-huh,” Ronan says, “now - be my boyfriend and shave my head for me will you?” 

 

“Shit head,” Adam snorts, kisses him again and then pulls away, “ok. Fine. Boyfriend. Bathroom, then.” 

  
  


-

  
  


While Adam shaves Ronan’s head, they work out the new rules. The new rules are these; Use your words, Lynch, Use  _ your _ words, Parrish, Butthead, We gotta tell the others, Stop still means stop, Obviously, and, Shithead.

  
  


  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to come ask me questions/yell at me here - etoilearden.tumblr.com


End file.
